The Dead Rise and the Killers Walk
by test-subject-19
Summary: It's an assassin's worst nightmare, the dead rising from their graves. Pan and Wolf were born and raised killers. Unable to converse socially but able to hit the risen dead from two hundred paces. How will they cope with the group who so desperately needed their unique skills? RATED M BECAUSE DARYL IS A SEXY BEAST AND HAS A POTTY MOUTH.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: None of The Walking Dead is mine, it's all Robert Kirkham's and AMC's etc etc. I make no profit from this, only smiles.**

**Author's Note: My first Walking Dead fanfiction! Woo, I hope you like it, do review! xD**

Deep breath in, deep breath out. The calm before the storm. The quiet before the attack.

She could hear them coming closer. The fleeing footsteps beat an irregular pattern through the quiet wood. The sounds of cracking twigs and rustling leaves interrupted the gentle silence of the trees. A whimper reached the ears. It was time.

Pan swung down from her perch in the oak tree, landing softly on the dry ground. Her muscles flexed as she stood, nocking an arrow fluidly.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She raised her bow and drew the string back to her jaw, waiting patiently.

Breathe in.

The crashing noise became louder, closer. Pan could feel the ground vibrate beneath her booted feet.

A blonde head bobbed into sight, followed by a sea of decaying faces. They broke into the clearing Pan stood in and the small girl being chased let out a muffled scream as her legs gave way and she hit the floor, fingers scrambling to pull herself away from the drooling dead.

Crap. Pan wasn't expecting that, but her instincts made the arrow in her bow fly into the nearest head. One by one, the walkers around the sobbing girl dropped to the floor.

Silence reigned once again in the wood.

Breathe out.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing of the Walking Dead is mine, only my OC's!**

**Chapter 1**

Sobs wracked the tiny body. She tried to stop them, really, she did. But her body didn't want to stop crying. Her chest was starting to hurt from all the shakes going through it. She knew there was no point to crying. She knew crying wouldn't stop the walkers tearing into her flesh like her daddy used to eat a chicken leg. She knew a walker wouldn't stop to pat her on the head and hand her a handkerchief if she had a tantrum like her mommy used to.

If anything, the salty tears would make her even tastier to them. She'd be seasoned like her mommy used to season soup. She had always helped her mommy cook dinner so it was on the table quicker for her daddy. Food always tasted nicer with a bit of salt in it.

Thinking of getting eaten made even more tears come, soaking the ground beneath her. She began to shake from exhaustion, fingers trembling so much that she couldn't even close her hand. It had been three days since she'd slept or eaten properly.

She had even forgotten what her last meal was. She was so hungry that she'd eaten the red berries by the stream. They tasted horrible and they made her stomach turn over and squeeze up the little food she had in her stomach, into her mouth and onto the dirty floor. She'd thrown up for about four hours. In the end, nothing was coming out of her. She was busy gargling water to get rid of the horrid taste in her mouth when the walkers found her. The child still had the rank taste of her stomach in her mouth.

She wondered if the lady had any water or any liquids, to be honest, to wash out her mouth. She was desperate, but still too scared to ask her.

The horrible noise the bodies made when the lady yanked her arrows out of them sounded horrible! She'd never really been up close and personal to a walker, her mommy had always protected her from the bad stuff. She missed her mommy loads. She'd never been this long away from her mom, it was freaking her out. Was she looking for her daughter? Was Daryl tracking her footsteps? If anyone could find her, Daryl would be able to.

Maybe they'd never find her. Maybe she'd be all alone forever until a walker caught her and chewed on her arm. She started sobbing even _more_. Where was she getting all of this water from? She hadn't drank much at the stream she stopped off at this morning…

* * *

She ran out of water eventually, she thought, because the tears stopped flowing and her body slowly calmed down. She began to pat the ground beneath her hand lightly. Taking some deep breaths to make her heart stop racing, she flinched at the unexpected voice.

"Kid? You still with me?" What a silly question. Couldn't the lady see that she was still lying here? Maybe she was blind… No. No way a blind person could aim that well. The woman had hit all of the thirteen walkers chasing her within a minute. It was awesome, but completely terrifying.

The girl was curious to see what her saviour looked like, now that she'd gotten over her panic attack and was breathing calmly. She was really curious.

She lifted her head to glance at her but the lady's belt of scary knives soon had her looking away. Her mommy always said it was dangerous to scare at bad people, especially ones who had as many weapons as this one did, so she quickly averted her eyes, staring at the ground. It was still covered in the blood from all the walkers.

"Are you okay?"

Nod head. She dragged all her limbs closer to her, away from those scary knives.

"Did you get bitten or scratched?" Good question. Shake head. She was a fast runner she told herself, preening slightly in her head. Her quick legs had kept her alive for the past three days.

She saw out of the corner of her eye a hand. It was a good idea to get back on her feet,it was safer than lying on the floor, so she took the lady's hand, releasing it quickly. It felt like she'd collapse again though. She hurried over to a big log and sat on it.

* * *

A few minutes passed by until the little girl was startled the glint of a knife. She tensed up, ready to run from the new danger but the lady holding the big knife which was almost the size of her arm, picked up a stick and started to slice it. The girl watched in confusion until a shape formed, if she squinted hard enough. Then the lady started to carve patterns into it, and an animal emerged.

Was it a fish? A cat? No, it was definitely a bird, she could see the wings.

Eventually the wooden creature was held up to the sunlight. It was finished, but from this distance it was impossible to make out what it actually was.

Without even thinking about it, her voice erupting from her mouth.

"Can I… Can I see that please?" She scrunched her lips together really tight after so no more words could escape.

"Sure." The blonde was quite shocked at the lady's response, but caught the sculpture anyway. As well as running, she was good at throwing and catching too. Sport was one of her favourite things, it was something that was easy for her. On sports day, she had always made her mommy proud, winning all the prizes.

Looking down at the tiny wooden bird, the girl realized it was an owl. The lady had turned an ugly stick into something beautiful, so realistic that the girl had to cup it in both hands so it wouldn't fly away. She stroked its feathers, imagining it was fluffy. She wanted to keep it. It was so cute!

Oh! Her mouth had opened and actually said those words! Bad mouth. The girl thought to herself that when she got the chance, she'd sew her mouth closed. It always got her into trouble. She glanced shyly at the lady to see if she was getting angry and red.

She wasn't! She was nodding! The blonde couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. The little owl was all hers. She put it in her pocket so it was safe if she had to move suddenly. She didn't want to drop it and lose it.

Silence came once more, surrounding them. If she had a watch, the girl could watch the minute hand go round and round and round…

As more time passed by, it became obvious to the small child that the lady was waiting for something, as every now and then, the woman would scan the trees with her eyes. Even though her face was blank of expression, the blonde could sense waves of impatience coming from her.

She took the opportunity to examine the lady.

The woman had long, shiny, dark red hair, scraped back from her face in a tight braid. She was very pretty, the blonde decided, with high cheekbones, a straight nose and pouty lips like the ladies on the telly always used to have. It was the woman's eyes that caught the girl's attention more than anything. They were a bright emerald green, framed by gorgeous, dark eyelashes.

Her saviour was quite small, the child thought, not as small as herself but… a cuddly size. Not that she looked very huggable with her big, bad-ass bow and her collection of huge, scary knives strapped to her waist. Without all the weapons, add an apron and she'd look just like the big sister the little girl always wanted. So caught up in the daydream of the lady plaiting her own light blonde hair sisterly, the child completely missed the question thrown at her.

"What's your name anyway, kiddo?"

The little girl gulped. She remembered her mommy used to tell her to not talk to strangers. Things had changed though, she argued with herself. A stranger who saved you from walkers and carved tiny owls was someone to be trusted, she concluded.

Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "Sophia."

**Please review! I love reading your comments, and hint hint, it'll make me post more. Teehee.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead or any of its characters. Woo, yay.**

**Author's Note: This chapter seems really short to me, three pages on Word, but I couldn't put anything else in without screwing up Sophia's POV in chapter 1... Oh yeah, this is Pan's POV of Chapter 1, because my brain and hands felt like writing it. Read and enjoy!**

**Review it please, it will make me giggle rainbows.**

Pan stared down at the blond child curled at her feet. The kid had been sobbing for the past five minutes. Surely she didn't have enough water in her tiny body to sustain that kind of fit. She was crying enough to flood America.

That wasn't good. Pan already had to deal with a zombie apocalypse, she didn't need a 'Noah and the Ark' situation to sort out.

Pan turned slowly, scanning the woods around her. She really needed him right about now. He should be back soon. He was better at this emotional crap than she was. She was just the one who beat the shit out of people.

Pan had a funny feeling her usual tactic wouldn't work on the shivering wreck below her. It'd probably just make her cry more.

The older girl was completely out of options. How the hell was she supposed to stop the child from bawling her eyes out. Poke her with a stick? Give her a lollipop? Scratch that idea, if Pan had lollipops, she wouldn't be handing them out. Hell no.

To pass the time, Pan walked around the clearing, pulling her arrows out of the corpses' decomposing heads. The squelching noise produced provoked a quiet wail from the small blonde blob in the grass. Pan rolled her eyes. Why were kids so wimpy these days? It was the end of the freakin' world, with the dead rising up, walking and itching to gnaw at flesh. If there was ever a time to down a pint of man-the-fuck-up, it was now.

Sitting on a worn log, Pan began to clean the arrows with a blood stained cloth she had pulled from her waistband. She wiped each arrow carefully, removing the blood and brain matter from the wood. Finally, after each shaft was clean and returned to her quiver, Pan stood and stretched. She looked again at the kid. She was still in a ball in the centre of the clearing, but at least she wasn't sobbing anymore.

"Kid? You still with me?"

The girl flinched at the sound of Pan's husky voice. Her little head raised and the older girl saw white skin peeking through the grime on her face where her tears had run down, but the kid looked quickly away, hiding her face from the stranger. Pan edged closer to the girl.

"Are you okay?" Pan ventured to ask the kid another question, eyebrow raised.

The girl nodded, sitting up and scrubbing her eyes with her knuckles. Sniffling, she drew her knees up to her chest defensively. It was obvious to Pan that the little girl was terrified of her, she was shaking enough to start an earthquake. Yet another natural disaster that Pan didn't need to sort out.

"Did you get bitten or scratched?"

A shake. Pan offered a hand to the kid and after a while it was taken by the girl's quivering fingers. The older girl yanked the child to her feet. It took Pan by surprise how soft the girl's hands were. Had she done nothing to protect herself from the dead? Had she done nothing to earn calluses on her hands? The child scuttled over to the log where Pan had sat previously.

An awkward silence descended on the clearing. The redhead sat with the back to a tree, facing the little girl, picked up a large stick and began to whittle it down with the blade of her hunting knife. Every now and then she looked up at the blonde perched on the log. She was skittish and ready to run, eyes fixed to the floor.

Minutes passed and the pile of shavings beside Pan grew. The stick was beginning to take shape. She switched from using the edge of the knife to the tip of it, carving patterns into the wood.

Pan lost herself in the gentle scratch of steel against wood, feeling the forest thrum around her with life. The dead hadn't taken everything away from the world. Not yet anyway, Pan thought to herself.

A slight breath took away all the wood dust. She held it up in the dappled light falling through the leaves, chipping a few more bits away to complete it, smiling at the finished sculpture. Looking past her knife, she saw the kid staring at her, awe in her eyes.

"Can I… Can I see that, please?"

"Sure." She tossed it over to the blonde with slow, exaggerated movements so the child wouldn't frighten. The child cradled it in both of her hands, stroking it.

It was a miniature owl, with large eyes and a smooth, curved beak. Each wing had tiny feathers etched into it. The small feet peeked out under its round belly. The kid seemed enchanted with the wooden animal.

"Can I k-k-keep it? It's so cute…" She trailed off, glancing at Pan.

The older girl nodded. Maybe that would shut the kid up. A grin broke over the little blonde's delicate features. She carefully put the sculpture into her jeans pocket and resumed staring at the ground, noticeably calmer now with a hint of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

At least Pan had made one person happy.

Where the hell was he? He should have definitely been back by now. This was getting ridiculous. He wouldn't have gotten lost, he'd be able to find his way out of the Amazon with a paper bag over his head. Maybe he got overwhelmed by a herd or something. Pan seriously doubted his intelligence daily, but surely he wouldn't have let himself get eaten by those freaks.

Aware that the kid was staring at her, Pan carefully schooled her expression. She let the child carry on with her examination of Pan's features, clothes and weapons. She'd rather have the child have her eyes fixed on Pan than her annoying high-pitched questions. She'd always hated how kids yapped like tiny little dogs. Put a muzzle on the kids and the dogs, that would solve everyone's problems. Perfect.

The kid was still staring at her. It was beginning to get weird now.

"What's your name anyway, kiddo?"

The blonde girl gulped, obviously inwardly debating whether to tell Pan or not.

If she didn't tell her, Pan would just have to make up a name for her. What girls names were there?

"Sophia."

That was a pretty name. Better than anything she could have come up with.

"I'm Pan."


End file.
